Mother's Day

I used to think Mother's Day felt like a lot of work. He Who Must Be Obeyed did a lot of helping or maybe it was me helping and him doing it. Anyway for several years we set the table for four generations of women, and the men in our lives. Today I can see the blessing that it was and I cherish the memory of all of us seated after church, white table cloth, best silverware.."Be present at our table Lord, be here and everywhere adored. These mercies bless and grant that we may feast in Paradise with Thee."

On this Mother's Day I think of the women that mothered me over the years, starting in January, 1935, on the kitchen table in a small homestead ranch house. The doctor got there from Buffalo, 12 miles away. I love looking at the photographs of me as a baby in my great grandmother's arms, in my grandmother's arms, in my aunties arms, and in the arms of my mother and father. How blessed is the child who is loved.

My own mother, grandmother, my aunties, and my great aunties were all women I greatly admire and love; women of great depth, large hearts, room for everyone, ever ready to take me howm with them for a stay; always willing to help one another, they loved the extended family, and held huge picnics get togethers.

I remember one time at my Aunt Lillie's when the entire clan gathered. It seemed there were hundreds of us, and maybe there were. Old aunts and uncles, little cousins, and babies in arms, two of them my own. Those dear, dear mothers in my family with the wonderful men in their lives. Men who smelled of homemade soap and pipe tobacco.

I thank God for them, every one. But most especially, I thank God for my own mother, outspoken, demanding when I was small; she saw to it that I knew how to pray, to clean house and iron clothes, and in her age softened to the point that I almost didn't recognize her. It is a happy feeling to be a mother.